The Good Kind of Broken
by FrankandJoe3
Summary: Dick can't sleep, so he calls up the one person he knows that can calm him down enough for him to get a few good hours of shut eye. Implied Birdflash


**I'm not dying guys, even though I am sick, I just haven't wanted to type in a while. I figured I'd give it a go because I still have another near 200 fics to type up. **

_#004: General: Broken_

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Dick was near three hundred and forty percent sure it had been 1:02 in the morning for the past three hours as he forced himself to turn away from the neon flash of his alarm clock, hooking his arm under the pillow now and curling his knees up to his chest. His heart pounded against his breast bone, as if it wanted to break through his chest and take shelter in his thighs, the pounding blood in his ears making him sick to his stomach, and not to mention impatient.

He tried to sleep, but when he closed his eyes, he would think of what would happen after he fell asleep. The darkness would pull him in and he'd be numb, unconscious, susceptible to any pain or injuries that he would've been able to defend against if his eyes were open. He could just die and he would never be the wiser because he'd be too busy being dead. His thoughts outraced his heart, if that were a possible feat, until he gave a groan and threw back the covers, giving up on sleep.

"Fine, don't love me tonight," he snarled at his bed as he got up, walking over to his dresser and leaning his elbows on the chestnut top to the desk.

He looked in the mirror for a long time, maybe just to pass the time which still hadn't changed past 1:02 which drew out a groan, before he actually surveyed his appearance. His brunette locks were quite a bit longer now, his bangs hanging over his eyes lightly and the back just a little past the nape of his neck, the original brown roots shining through a good half-inch. Needed a cutting and a dying. Just great.

"Fantastic," he muttered sarcastically, meeting his gaze and widening his eyes with an index and middle finger prying each orbs open wider.

He looked at the blue, tracing the iris all around, trying to see in what way it at all resembled an ocean at sunset like Wally said. Dark blue was all he saw. Was that a light shade? Maybe a bit of white? Purple? No, it was just dark blue. He couldn't be stupid. Wally was the stupid one. Maybe he should tell him.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had his phone in hand and was dialing the number he had memorized like the verses he needed to recite in church the next morning to be baptized, lying back down in his bed despite it not wanting him back.

"Come on, KF… pick up," he begged, watching the ceiling until the fifth ring when he exhaustedly turned to the clock.

He looked just in time to see the numbers switch, drawing a victorious quiet cry from his lips, making him deaf to hear the click of the phone being picked up.

"Yes! 1:03! Praise the lord above, thank you, Jesus!" Dick shimmied in his boxers with a grin that lit up the dark in the room, quickly blushing up tight when a soft clearing of a throat on the other line made him aware he wasn't alone.

"E.. e'erything okay, Grayson?" Wally's tired voice crept over the line in a confused little groan, the sound of his mattress creaking ever so faint in the background.

The ebony brushed his bangs up out of his face with a shy smile, "Did I wake you up?"

What it was that the ginger chuckled at wasn't exactly clear to the little bird, but he knew it had to concern him as the voice perked up a bit and a stretchy yawn cut the line.

"I asked first," he reminded the fifteen year old who he could feel pout on the other end of the line, "Now, Robby, is everything okay or did you just feel like calling me at one in the morning?"

Dick bit the side of his frown, laying his phone on the pillow beside his ear and crossing his ankles gently with his arms supporting his neck.

"I can't sleep. I'm all… wired… and thinking. I was hoping you could help me get to sleep. But now—did I wake you?"

Wally made an awkward noise from the base of his throat, a hesitant thinking noise and a pausing one before he made an even weirder "kind of" noise.

"No matter, I'm awake now. Want me to come over, you want to come here or want me to do it on the phone?" his word choice made the bird clam up like the best of the little oysters down in the seabed, protecting their pearls with the best life they had to offer out.

At his silence, the ginger thought on his words before laughing as he understood.

"And you call me pervy! I mean like, to help you get to sleep! I can just talk to you or one of us can go to the others and we can do something—non sexual—that will help get you get tired. I could always help you with that mane you're failing to manage," he offered, his smirk powerful enough to be transferred over the phone line.

The ebony combed his hair back off of his forehead, surprised that Wally sounded to have noticed this for a while considering he had only just noticed it a minute ago.

"Your walls are paper thin," Dick hinted, tracing the ruts in the whiteness above.

"Your house is booby-trapped," Wally retorted.

"It's not booby-trapped! Just because that one time, you entered the wrong code to the gate—!"

"I didn't enter the wrong code! I put in all twelve digits before this stupid light came out and realized I wasn't one of you! Then the statue folded back and tried to shoot me!"

"It doesn't maim or injure, just paralyze you long enough to photograph your picture and implant you with a tracker."

"T-tracker?!"

"You already had one, so they didn't inject you. You're fine."

"What do you mean I 'already have one'?!"

"It's part of the gig, Gingey. The cape—er, mask… _cowl _comes with a tracker, free of charge. It's in case you go all commando and we have to find you and save your red butt."

"I think you mean my _perfect_ red butt."

"I think I meant your perfect red butt that needs to get itself over here."

"Fine, but when your gate rejects me again, you have to kiss my perfect red butt and apologize to it!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"… Hurry up and get over here, KF. It's been 1:03 since we started talking."

"It's 1:10. Don't worry, should only take me another ten minutes. I have to find some pants. In the meantime… open your window and go find the hair dye… and some scissors. And a towel. We'll get some stuff done."

"Alright, see you in a sec."

"Bye."

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The window open just enough to draft in that icy breeze, Dick had the scissors, dye and towel laid out at the foot of his bed as he swiftly changed out of his shamefully owned Flash boxers and slid on a plaid pair, hiding them with PJ pants shrouded with the Call of Duty: Black Ops symbol, tying them loosely around his hips. He kept without a shirt though, knowing how painful it was to even attempt getting the dark dye from any shirt he owned. It wasn't worth the hassle.

He slid his utility belt up and over his bare shoulders, crawling out his window and gingerly flipping down to the dew-smothered grass below, shuddering at the icy touch it left, sliding out through the rungs of the gate and thanking the abusive three years of half-assed anorexia that left him with such ability. He entered the code for the gates, his code anyway, and leaned in close as it examined his retina specifically. It would let the next person in without question. Perfect.

He darted back inside and launched his grappling hook to his window sill, scaling the air and quickly scrambling inside again before he knelt down and his now refolded belt between the mattress and the bed frame with a snarky little smirk.

1:03 was now 1:06, such an astounding time jump that Dick had triple check he was reading the pulsing scarlet right and not just having a seizure. He'd never had a seizure before, but what better time to start? His floor was carpet, pretty soft, wouldn't hurt too bad if Wally got there in time. Just to be sure, he spread his arms out and turned his head, Sherlock-falling **[1]** onto the floor and forcing his legs not to lock in as the carpet caught him.

He winced a bit, feeling the wood beneath the soft hairs, but it was a lot softer than he had actually imagined the fall would be, laying there and snuggling the carpet with a small smile.

"I know you won't fall… you'll always be here for as long as I am…" he let his fingers wind through the white and brown strands, tugging out a few idly. "Unless the Manor's torched or something… maybe Alfred redecorates… tornado…"

He sighed contentedly, nestling his cheek into the fibers before he opened his eyes, gasping at the parallel gaze to his own.

"Hey there, birdy," a smug tone whispered, quickly launching him through the short space between them and wrapping the ebony's arms around Wally's waist.

"Wally!" he cried happily and quietly into the teen's shirt, his fingers entangling in the big white shirt.

The ginger laughed, sitting up and pulling the little acrobat with him, rubbing his back comfortingly before he stood them up, setting his hands to the pale shoulders to push the boy back and grin down at him.

"Nice PJs," Wally taunted, turning the blue eyes down to blush at the bare chest he bore.

Dick rolled his eyes with a little chuckle, shrugging the touch from his shoulders before striding over to the bed and throwing the towel over his shoulders.

"Let's get this done, West," he encouraged, a certain sparkle lighting up those back corners of his eyes before he made his way to a white framed door between his slightly ajar closet door that sketched the speedster to pieces and the largest chestnut dresser along the dark green walls.

The ginger hesitated, darting over and pressing the closet shut to ensure no monsters would escape before picking up the scissors and dye and quickly following the vertically-challenged teen into the bathroom.

"How loud are the pipes?" Wally asked over his shoulder as he opened the cabinet above the sink, grabbing the plastic gloves from behind the Kleenex boxes where they were always stored.

He'd never had to dye the teen's hair, let alone this late in the night. Morning? Whatever. He'd only watched Bruce do it before, with permission mind you, because he was a bit too big to hide beneath the desk now.

"Near silent," he was assured, Dick tossing his towel aside and turning on the faucet before ducking his hair under the icy stream.

He hissed at the temperature, a shiver running down between the defined blades of either shoulder, quickly pulling himself back and tousling the droplets quick through his locks. His shoulders were quickly doused by the tattered green towel and the ebony turned, looking up at Wally through the long and wet strands with a small smile.

"Now it's your turn to copy the pipes. Bruce is in the room next to this," he grinned cheekily, tensing as Wally raised his hand.

The ginger's face softened in surprise before he hugged Dick close with a quiet laugh. The wet hair soaked through his white shirt, but he honestly couldn't care less.

"You're adorable," he murmured happily, "You know I'd never hurt you…"

When he felt the little laugh against his chest, he pulled back and tugged his soaked shirt up over his head with one hand, discarding it with a careless toss and turning back to the teen in front of him. He offered a gentle smile, comforting as he could offer, cupping one pale cheek with a gloved hand and caressing it gently with a plastic thumb before pulling back and squirting some dye into his palm.

"Now head down, I don't feel like dying that pretty face of yours, too," he taunted with a little snicker, running his palm over the brown roots and slowly curving his fingers through the excessive locks.

Dick purred quietly at the touch, nowhere near ashamed of it from the helpless grin that stretched itself over his cheeks. As the gloved fingers worked their way through his hair, he only murmured happier and happier sounds at the affection he was being given. Every stroke, pet and tug to his hair broke him down into smaller and smaller pieces until he was a shattered mess of bliss on the bathroom floor, no grasp left on reality.

He was always like this around Wally. He would split into halves, fourths, eights, hundredths even the closer the ginger got to him, the sweeter his words became, the more devoted his attention grew. There was just something about his best friend that made him question that title, that made him wish it was something more than that, something he could hold close to his chest every night beneath the covers and snuggle up to, knowing that once he's out, the arms around him will protect him from all else.

A gentle chuckle brought him back from his personal little wonderland with a jump, meeting Wally's confused features with the same little coy grin.

"Done already?" Dick asked, surprised.

Wally smirked, folding his arms over his chest, revealing that the gloves were long gone.

"Yeah, I kind of lost you up there in Robin-Land," he teasingly tapped between the navy blue eyes, "Now it's time for a cut. Want me to do this one, too?"

The acrobat hesitated, grabbing the scissors and testily poking the tip to make sure it couldn't decapitate him with a brief slip-up. Once satisfied, he hesitated in handing them to the auburn-haired teen.

"I… I trust you. Don't make me regret it," he cautiously begged, watching those emerald orbs for trickery.

Wally laughed, taking the scissors and sliding his thumb through a loop before lazily tousling the hair out of shape.

"Stop worrying, Boy Wonderful. I know what I'm doing," he smoothed the hair back into the generally right direction. "You want it to still be a bit thick, so we can all still play with your hair, but you want it a little bit up off your neck and you want it cut so you can see through it. No emo bangs, just the regular three snippets that always part the way they do."

Lips parted in a bit of surprise, Dick nodded with awe in his expression, straightening up and adjusting the towel over his bare shoulders.

"Just be gentle, KF."

The little acrobat wouldn't even have noticed the pain though as those soft hands started to work their way through his hair again, the cool of the metal brushing his head as it trained the bits of his hair to the points Wally needed them to be, letting out the same little purrs from before as the black particles slowly drifted down around his feet. It was near a show, a stripper's exotic dance across the stage only for those eyes lucky enough to be graced at the regularly curtained beauty.

The tiny little flickers of sound, the clicks echoing out as the metal ends embraced when the cut hair started its descent downwards to the tile, it was all just a trance designed specific for the little bird's ears, stealing him farther and farther away until he was lost. There wasn't a way back. The door was long gone, its frame etched out from the wall and just becoming another line of the many against the wallpaper.

Without hesitation, only a small smile slowing each little snip, Wally never quit moving his hands over the teen's head, scissors clipping, until he found the perfect sight waiting for him in the mirror's reflection: the returning gaze of those beautiful blues. Only then did he set the scissors down and set his hands to the towel over those bare shoulders, smiling down at the little ebony.

"Looks awesome, Wally," Dick admired, raising his hands in wonder to mess with the shortened bangs, tensing as he pulled back with black palms.

Surprised, the ginger looked at his own hands and heavily cursed under his breath.

"Looks like I'm an Atlantean now, Robby. Fit me for my flippers," he teased, pulling the towel off of the acrobat's shoulders and tossing it lazily towards the tub.

Dick laughed, rubbing his hands off on his boxers as he propped open the door to the bathroom with his hip for the ginger to pass through.

"Racist!" he chided with a laugh, waiting until the speedster was back into his main room before the towel straddling the door top was tugged off and ran over his still slightly wet hair to lessen the stain it might cause his pillows.

It took Wally a second, his face frozen in an ultimate idiot expression for the longest time, before he seemed to actually comprehend what the ebony meant by that. When it made sense, his eyes grew wide and a hesitant blush lined his cheeks.

"I meant the tattoos!" he squeaked, rubbing his neck and cursing as he remembered the stain to his hands.

Just more of those tattoos, right? Yeah. He'd fit _right _in underwater. After he drowned of course. He'd be just like some of that kelp. Fitting right in.

"Whatever you say, KF," he laughed with a grin, eyes still glistening. "I'm going to try and lay down now, I guess. It's almost two somehow."

Dick wasn't sure when he noticed the time change, but if he had said it hadn't caught him off-guard, he would definitely be lying. Wally almost seemed to pout, folding his arms over his chest before he shrugged and crossed to the other side of the bed, throwing back the covers and diving onto the mattress with a contented sigh.

"God, feels like… It feels like I'm lying on Jesus right now," Wally grinned ear-to-ear before turning onto his stomach and pressing his face into the memory foam pillow with a laugh of amusement.

Dick stood there, the open window to his left and the other half of the bed empty and in front of him, expectantly staring down at Wally with a face that clearly stated, "Really, bro?", but the ginger made no attempt to move.

"Fine then. Nothing will be suspicious when Bruce walks in to find me in nothing but my boxers with another guy who wasn't here with me when he told me goodnight… of course not…"

He sighed and climbed into the bed, pulling the covers up over them and curling into a small ball beside the ginger, gathering all the melting and shattering pieces that his frantic heartbeat and mad blush were helping to keep from returning back to their regular state. He was broken there, the teen who gave him butterflies in the bed beside him, and he couldn't have been any happier.

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**[1] I don't even watch this show, but Tumblr has reblogged that fall so many times that I know it has to be tragic. Is this too soon of a reference?**

**BECAUSE I CAN MAKE BROKEN A GOOD THING. I know, there were so many things wrong with this fic, but I'm not a chiropractor. I can't work out all of the kinks. You have to pay me extra for that. Ha. Kidding. Review if you want, it'd be nice. **

**-F.J. III**


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